


Take me to Church

by gothkore, sooshissi



Series: The Preacher Raised A Demon, How Ironic [1]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Bottom Kim Namjoon | RM, Choking, Dom Jeon Jungkook, Dom/sub Undertones, Jungkook is a preachers son, M/M, Namjoon has a praise kink, Public Sex, Sub Kim Namjoon | RM, Top Jeon Jungkook, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 06:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14971247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothkore/pseuds/gothkore, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sooshissi/pseuds/sooshissi
Summary: Having a crush isn't a bad thing, but when you have a crush on the preacher's son, it's an issue, an even bigger one when you realize he's a delinquent.





	Take me to Church

**Author's Note:**

> I love bottom/sub Namjoon, so both in one fic is a blessing. 
> 
> Also, I do really apologise that this is ending as a cliffhanger, but don't worry, the next part is angsty. 
> 
> I'm always down for requests (that I like), talk to me about it (Instagram and Tumblr): doeeyeddoh

Namjoon was never a religious man, he would refuse to get on his knees for any God, religion never a driving force in his life. Every day he would pass by the community church, he’d pass by the prayers, the mourners and the sinners seeking redemption, Namjoon never being a part of the masses, but he wasn’t a bad person. Where religion didn’t fill his heart, animals, art, music and writing did. He immersed himself daily in writing, whether it poetry or music, he was constantly creating. He never caused problems, couldn’t dream of it, even if his outward appearance made others think differently. He was constantly clad in leather jackets, boots and anything black he could find, finding comfort in his “bad boy” look.

Namjoon didn’t cause problems, but he did have one big problem, his crush on the preacher’s son, the son of the man who condemned him years ago for never attending church, for giving is faith over to no one, for being himself, _Kim Namjoon_. He was beautiful, Jeon Jungkook was a tall, tan boy, typically clad in sweaters that made Namjoon’s mouth dry and jeans that cupped his bottom half beautifully, his bulge simultaneously killing Namjoon and having him see this “God” people talk a lot about. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from the man, but after endless nights of dreams occupied by that dick in his throat, it became clear:

He wanted Jungkook to hold him down and fuck him so hard he saw God.

Namjoon was an art student, he was a writer, he could appreciate aesthetics, and he wanted Jungkook to etch sonnets into his skin with his hands, he wanted to be sobbing with pleasure, wanted to be fucked until the only thing he remembered was God’s name. But if you asked, Namjoon isn’t gay, never thought about it, he didn’t necessarily care, but he could appreciate beauty and _GOD_ Jungkook was beautiful. Namjoon’s sure there isn’t a God, but when Jungkook smiles, lip tucked between teeth, dangerous glint in his eye, he backtracks on his statement and questions it again; _Are you sure? Are you sure there’s no God Kim Namjoon?_

There was a minor setback with Jungkook, Namjoon wasn’t sure he was even gay, or remotely attracted to men. You see, Namjoon told his friends about his small crush, ‘Giant,’ Yoongi supplied for him when he told them the first time, gushing about his hands, oh god, his hands. Namjoon could write novels about them, the large hands making his entire body a little too warm to be normal, dreaming almost nightly of those hands skimming his thighs and ass, squeezing and prodding until finger-shaped bruises kissed his skin, in short, Namjoon wanted Jeon Jungkook to destroy him.

Jeon Jungkook is a religious man, or he used to be. Quickly growing out of that once he learned how to speak for himself, although he did attend church to keep his father happy, being the son of a preacher was never easy. Having the entire congregation know your name, your home address and father all at once was unnerving. Knowing that almost everyone would rat him out if he skipped out on bible study nights or didn’t lead prayer at dinner’s his father couldn’t attend, he hated it. So, to make up for it, Jungkook street fights in the alley behind the towns long-abandoned movie theatre. Having the reputation of the towns “Heavenly Good Boy,” a constant pain in the ass, because he didn’t want to praise God every day, he wanted to get his hands dirty, to beat punks who thought they were powerful, the ones who pick on the regular people. The most noticeable difference between Jungkook and the street rats was that he knew when to quit, he left his anger behind the theatre.

He had a set schedule, as to not be caught: home by 6, after school and church, he would head home, be present for the dinner his mother made, go up to his room, do homework, and exit out his window by 9 PM, the alley calling his name, the bloodshed and adrenaline an addiction, forcing an itch into his life that no matter how hard he scratched, it wouldn’t go away. The rage itself became harder to hide, the noticeable cuts, the hot fire that burned through him, he felt like sin itself consumed him, cooking his blood until he saw red, obsessed with the sting of a fist kissing his cheek and the impact of pavement catching his body. It was invigorating, the way his body felt with adrenaline coursing through it, how his lungs burned from the exertion he forced upon his body, taking hit after hit and dishing more than he thought possible; he lived for it.

Jungkook more often than not, found the pain arousing, he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs when the choir sang, he wanted to scream so loud that the devil himself told him to ‘shut the fuck up.’ When the little kids dressed in their Sunday best, giggled and batted their lashes at him he wanted to corrupt their innocence, fuck with their heads. Jungkook wanted to turn them inside out, show them a side of carnal sin that would plague their very existence. He wanted to burn this model town to the ground, he wanted the town to match the people; empty and smouldering, to snuff the promise in this town’s innocence

Typically, his trips were uneventful, taking a long, drawn-out route to avoid people he knew, cutting behind a trailer park and through an empty parking lot. Jungkook expected the same thing, but instead, he came across a gruesome scene. The street rats he constantly found himself battling had a man, about his height, pinned against a wall, blood running down his face and he begged them to leave him alone. The boy was beautiful, which took Jungkook by surprise because he should be thinking of saving him, not how amazing those lips would look wrapped around his cock and how that tan skin would look spread out against his white bed sheets, writhing in pleasure.

Jungkook was about to spring into action, going to the help the man before he stopped to think that maybe, the leather-clad guy was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Opting out of helping, he stood back to watch, shocked by the fact that the man wasn’t fighting back, just protecting his face from the onslaught of punches.

Jungkook watched, waiting until the rats left before checking up on the man. “Hey, buddy” he kicked at the man's shin, “You good? Can you tell me your name?” He looked up, the protection he had on his face not helping much, his left eye was swollen and his face had cuts, probably from where they slammed him into the wall. “N-Namjoon, Kim Namjoon,” his breathing was shallow like they had kicked in a rib or two, “Alright, Kim Namjoon, I’ll take you to the hospital but that’s as far as I go, so, good luck.”

Jungkook had helped him up, though it felt like lifting a six-foot bag of rocks, literally, the man felt like dead weight, made his chest tighten.

The walk to the hospital was quiet, Jungkook relishing in it while Namjoon felt the earth sway with each step, his balance seriously altered, “I want you to know I don’t make a habit of helping people, so don’t get used to me helping you, okay?” Namjoon merely grunted in response, talking seemed too difficult. “I’m taking that as a yes, okay? Also, we’re here, can you make it up the curb or do you need to be-” Namjoon cut off his sentence by taking one step forward and almost face planting, a dopey look on his face when Jungkook rushed to catch him. “I don’t, I don’t think I can, I have bad luck.” The look on Namjoon’s face had Jungkook laughing, “Come on you baby, let’s get you inside.”

“Oh, Jungkook what brings you here?” The receptionist side eyed Namjoon, quietly gasping at the leather-clad man, grimacing when she noticed his face, “Jeon Jungkook who is the man, and why are you helping him? Sit him in the waiting area, someone will help him, don’t be putting yourself so close to trouble, I hate those street boys, they think fighting is some kind of game. Did you know they hang out downtown? Fighting behind the theatre like some thugs, ugh, I call the police but they’re always gone before the cops catch them.” Jungkook ignore the clipped town she spoke in, she meant well, but the man, Namjoon, wasn’t them, wasn’t him.

Before he left, saying his goodbyes to the receptionist, he approached Namjoon, who seemed to be barely conscious, “Hey, Kim Namjoon, come to the church Sunday, say 1 PM? Meet me in the back, there’s something I wanna try.”

That next Sunday, Namjoon met Jungkook after church, following him into the back of the church. “Wow, I actually thought you wouldn't show up, cool. Also, I’m going to fuck you, how does that make you feel? Because I won't lie Namjoon, this is all I've thought about since that dopey face you pulled just trying to get up the curb, the innocence I saw made me want to snuff it out," he leaned in, "I want to destroy it.” Jungkook smirked when the only Namjoon did was shake his head 'yes,' eyes darkening. Namjoon never envisioned his first time with Jungkook like this, he expected soft, a man who would ease him into sex, taking his time to open him up, making sure he was comfortable before he continued. Jungkook, however, was the complete opposite. Namjoon missed the evil glint in Jungkook’s eye when he agreed to meet him in the back of the church, expecting a “come to God,” speech, instead, he was roughly slammed against a wall and was met with soft lips pressing into his, Jungkook setting a rough and fast pace, barely giving Namjoon time to catch his breath, taking more and more from him. Namjoon moaned, it was a rough sound, reverberating from the bottom of his soul.

“You’re a lot quieter than I assumed you’d be, are you shocked?” Jungkook punctuated the last word with a rough twist of his fingers, causing Namjoon to grunt, “It’s like you didn’t expect the preacher’s son to be this selfish right, to want to fuck mere minutes after knowing you, right? I’m only stretching you because it’s the _polite_ thing to do.” Namjoon couldn’t believe the audacity of this guy but didn’t have much time to give it thought as Jungkook buried himself in Namjoon’s ass, not pausing, chasing his own pleasure.

A whine left his throat, the almost  _raw_ tug on his hole too much, “ _oh my god, slow down._ ” Jungkook only laughed, the grip he held onto Namjoon tightening as he kept his pace, fast enough for him to get off but not doing much for Namjoon. He didn’t expect Jungkook to slow down, he just hoped he would, _wishful thinking Kim Namjoon, you tried._ What he wasn’t expecting, however, was Jungkook sliding his hand over his throat, barely closing his fist before Namjoon groaned, loud and unabashed, the sound reverberating through the room they were in.

“I could cum just listening to you, Joonie, your whines,  _goddammit_ , they’re so addictive, should’ve taken you home, anything to fuck you into my mattress, you’d probably let me call you ‘good boy’ wouldn’t you? Let me pick you apart and put you back together.” _Fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck,_ Namjoon was gonna cum, just from those words, the empty promises Jungkook was making, because fuck, he would, he’d let him break him, didn’t matter if he could put him back together or not. “Yes, yes yes yes, I-I would, fuck, Jungkook, please.” He could hear the young boy chuckle, he understands, Namjoon didn’t even know what he was saying please for, couldn’t tell if it was to their current situation or what Jungkook said, he just needed something.

He could physically feel Jungkook getting close, the boy grunting with every thrust, his grip fluctuating with each movement, the touch almost too much. “You,” _thrust_ “are a good boy Namjoon, letting me do this, and in a church,” _thrust_ “am I the first to take you like this? Am I?” Namjoon was going crazy, the constant pressure on his prostate making thoughts hard to find, chasing them down before they're trampled by blinding pleasure.

“N-no,” _inhale_ “I’ve been f-fucked before,” _exhale_ “just not like this, fuck.” Jungkook groaned, hips stuttering as he came into Namjoon’s ass, riding out his high, before pulling out and watching his cum drip. “Good to know, Namjoon, unfortunately for you, I have to go, so, here,” Namjoon shakily turned, seeing a tissue Jungkook was handing him, “you’re going leave before I cum? Really.” He was shocked when the brunet laughed, “Uh yeah, I just needed a hole and you provided, thanks, Joonie.” _are you actually kidding me, damn kid._ “I’ll see you around.” and with that, Jungkook left Namjoon in a dirty room in the back of a church, still hard, covered in sweat and cum leaking from his ass.

 

He hates Jeon Jungkook and his stupidly thick dick.

  



End file.
